DP Writing 201 Challenge: Water

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DP, DP Challenge, poem, poetry, Weekly Writing Challenge

This weekend, I signed up for the Daily Post Poetry Challenge …I’m not sure what I was thinking other than I need to tackle some goal, some challenge to beat the February blahs! Today’s challenge was to write a Haiku related to water, and if up to an additional challenge, to include a simile with it. We’ll see how this goes… Happy Monday!

 

My life’s like a puddle
Serene, it reflects the beauty around me
I am calm and happy.

Former views are snatched away
Someone causes ripples to distort my peace
I am frightened and lost.

Ripples fade, glassy surface resumes
I feel them keenly, less with time
I am sore and weary.

The ripples are a warning
They will happen when I am unprepared
I am uncertain and untrusting.

They are also a reminder
God created my puddle; God restores peace
I am comforted and safe.

I can survive the ripples
I choose to change, not be defined
I am free and tranquil.

The puddle will always change
But when I pause, I see reflections
More beautiful, I am blessed.

To join the classes, click here.

Manifesto: Red Shoes

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DP, DP Challenge, humour, shoes, Weekly Writing Challenge

Every women, at some point in her life, must own (and proudly wear) a pair of red shoes. I don’t care if they are stilettos or sneakers, ballet flats or strappy sandals. Why? Because “Cinderella is proof that a new pair of shoes can change your life.” – Author Unknown

“Every woman” encompasses every age and stage. Whether she is a girl on the brink of becoming a woman, or a woman on the edge of becoming a grandmother. Whether she is falling in love, or saying farewell to an old one. Whether she is facing a new opportunity or living in mediocrity. Married or single, young or old – it’s important to feel like a woman. It’s important that she allow herself to be expressive and bold because she is worth it.

For years, I secretly coveted a pair of red high heels, but the dull side of me couldn’t justify such a purchase. Every time I passed a pair in a store window, I felt a twinge of guilt for even looking at such an impractical item. And one day I got tired of feeling guilty. My dreams are small and many will be unrealized…what was the big deal about wearing a pair of shoes in a sassy shade? Who decided I was to spend my lifetime in boring, basic black or blah brown? Only me…I bought a pair of shiny red heels. It was one of the first times I felt (dare I say it) sexy. I felt less like a country bumpkin in the big city; I felt “invincible”.  I wear them often!

I was shopping with my Mom yesterday, looking at red shoes and she casually commented that she wondered about getting a pair of red shoes too, but then what would she wear them with…and I immediately answered “everything”. I pair them with sundresses and jeans. I’ve inspired other women to step outside the box they’ve put themselves in to try some fabulous footwear. Ladies, no more excuses…

It’s time to Colour Our World. That little pop of colour can brighten any woman’s day…and make the world a little sunnier for those around her. “Color your world because the world is too simple in black and white.” –  Daniel Long

It’s time to Challenge Our World. “A shoe is not only a design, but it’s a part of your body language, the way you walk. The way you’re going to move is quite dictated by your shoes.” – Christian Louboutin When a woman feels glamorous, she is more likely to realize and to appreciate, what a beauty she is…inside and out. She will realize that it is okay to look and feel beautiful. It’s okay to stand out in a crowd. She will cease to be defined only by her job or her marital status, by the “hats” she wears in the world, and to reclaim her place as a woman in the world. She will re-discover her femininity and embrace it. Like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, she will find her way “home”.

It’s time to Conquer Our World. When a woman feels like she looks good, she feels good! She feels confident. She stands taller. She will stand up and speak out for others. She will stand up and speak out for herself. She is more likely to overcome her inhibitions because she realizes that just by wearing ritzy red shoes and shining in the crowd, she already has. She isn’t defined by the “box” she has put herself in, or allowed herself to be put in by others. In the words of Marilyn Monroe, “Give a girl the right shoes, and she can conquer the world.”

What shade of red? “Bright reds – scarlet, pillar-box red, crimson or cherry – are very cheerful and youthful. There is certainly a red for everyone.” – Christian Dior

Did the addition of my red heels mean that I’m more willing to take risks, more willing to stand out in the crowd? Am I embracing a sassier side? Absolutely! A day is coming when I will trade in my red heels for something more comfortable and safe (since heels aren’t good for you). But that day is not today…and you can “bet your bottom dollar” that this Cinderella will wear red forever!

Wearing a Favourite: “To wear dreams on one’s feet is to begin to give reality to one’s dreams.” – Roger Vivier

To see more Weekly Writing Challenge Manifestos, click here.

*all quotes are from www.brainyquote.com

Yo, Bro’!

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big brother, brother, DP, DP Challenge, family, humour, little sister, memories, Weekly Writing Challenge

It seems few people know that I have a big brother. I’m sure fewer people know that he has a little sister. From the very beginning I was doomed to bear the title, “Little Sister” – and not just as result of birth order. I also inherited the negative connotations associated with the title (i.e., “bratty pest”), even though I didn’t do most of the things that would justify such a name. I didn’t follow him or his friends around incessantly, steal his things, set him up and rat him out to Mom, or generally make a nuisance of myself (at least I’m pretty sure I didn’t)! Sometimes it seemed my very existence was an abomination in his world. He asserts to this day that, when asked if he wanted a little brother or a little sister, he most definitely said “little brother”. I cannot begin to imagine the horror he felt when pink invaded our home…

For the most part, he ignored me. Four years my senior, we had little in common. There were, of course, some usual big brother pranks…he locked me in dark closets and beheaded a few Barbie dolls. He required that I walk a respectful 10 paces behind him. He “punch-buggy-ed me” every time we saw a Volkswagon Beetle (I hated the poster in his room). And he had plenty of affectionate names for me: Stupid, Dipstick, Kitspid (which is dipstick backwards) and so on. He’d tease me by doing things like dancing around in Dad’s work boots like a ballerina. He and his friend would call the house after school when they knew I was home alone and in a gravelly voice, say: “Hi. I’m an axe murderer and I’m coming to kill you”. And we had conversations like:

Me: You’re stupid
Bro: I know you are but what am I
Me: You’re smart and funny and everybody loves you
Bro: I know I am but what are you.

Needless to say, it took me awhile to catch on.

Occasionally we did some things together. We fought over whether we were watching Star Trek or Little House. We fought over who left a “dribble” in the bottom of the milk bag and therefore, needed to change it. We conspired together and dumped my grandmother off her raft at the lake. When he got his license, we enjoyed driving places together with the windows down and the music cranked.

 

One summer he convinced me that sharks could swim up the St. Lawrence into our lake and adapt to the fresh water. I don’t think I went any deeper than my ankles the entire summer because I was afraid of fresh water sharks. He once tried to convince me there were white snow tarantulas too…

There was the time that my bro and his friend, and my friend and I, went to the fairgrounds to play Capture the Flag. My friend and I got bored and headed home. I went to the front door to get the house key (it was under a bag of salt between the two doors), but when I reached down, the door knob started to move…and then the door opened. I shrieked. To this day, I don’t know how he beat us to the house and got inside without being seen. I was still shaking hours later.

But once in awhile, my big brother came through for me. When my Mom had the flu and I was sad, he let me hug his arm…briefly. He saved me from drinking dead “flueggies” in my milk. And he let me borrow his Walkman when I got sent home from school with head lice.

So to my big brother, I’m sorry I wasn’t a little brother. But I’d just like to say, thanks for the memories. I love you and miss you. And finally,

Last week’s writing challenge was a memoir…I’m a bit behind…If you want to read other writers ‘ “memoirs”, you can click here.

Weekly Writing Challenge: Ray Bradbury’s Noun List Twist

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DP, DP Challenge, Fiction, Weekly Writing Challenge

Here was the challenge: Ray Bradbury, author of 11 novels, busted his writer’s block by creating lists of nouns — the basic building blocks of sentences, paragraphs, short stories, novels, flash fiction, memoir, and poems. My “mission” was to create a list of at least 10 nouns and write a new piece (paragraph, a story, flash fiction, a poem, a memoir) that included at least 5 of them.

***

I had never noticed them before, speaking to one another across the room, sharing an urgent and incessant secret. Apart from the silence, the two clocks ticked, but not in unison. When one ticked, the other tocked, and it reminded me of a heartbeat. I could feel my own heartbeat speeding up as the muscles in my neck tensed and I felt a cold breeze on the nape of my neck. This room was once a place of happiness and laughter, but all too soon, the children had left me, and only the walls could remember their voices.

The room darkened and my gaze turned to the window. I could see the clouds gathering on the horizon, a tumultuous wall of black and white like the wings of a fallen angel. Thunder rumbled in the distance, heralding an intense storm, and I could see in the silhouette of the old willow, that the wind was starting to race ahead of the storm, like a woman gathering her skirts to run. How odd! It wasn’t raining outside yet, but my cheeks were wet. I knew I should be turning on a light, stoking a fire, seeking out candles in preparation before the storm raged, but I am an old lady. I have weathered many storms before. Instead, I preferred to sit in silence, listening to the heart of the clocks beat around me.

A skeletal twig grates across the old glass pane, like an animal testing a secret doorway to gain entrance. And still the sky grew blacker, a portent of destruction. No cloud was distinguishable from another. Thunder shook house, and I marvelled that the ground wasn’t just opening up to swallow it whole. The clawing branch had become insistent that it must gain entry before the rain, until the shrieking of the wind, drowned it out. But it wasn’t the wind that shrieked; it was the thin voice of an old lady wailing toward the heavens. And all the while, above the din, the clocks ceaselessly shouted their surreptitious affairs.

***

I’m not a fiction writer, but I decided to take a chance. What happens next in the story is up to you. Feel free to share your ideas!

To see more writers who tackled this week’s challenge, click here.

Weekly Writing Challenge: Lost Art

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DP, DP Challenge, DPchallenge, family, memories, Weekly Writing Challenge

“It was not a woman’s desire to be forgotten. And in one simple, unpretentious way, she created a medium that would outlive even many of her husband’s houses, barns and fences; she signed her name in friendship onto cloth and, in her own way, cried out, REMEMBER ME!” – Linda Otto Lispett

This bedroom is empty now, but through the winter of 1993 and the Spring of 1994, it was a gathering place for 3 generations of women. My brother was getting married that May, and we wanted to make a wedding quilt. We chose fabric in soft grey blues and began the long process of making a Celtic quilt. We sewed bias strips and appliqued them onto each square in different and intricate patterns of knots, before layering the fabric and batting, basting it together, and stretching it on the quilt frames that once belonged to my great-grandmother.

Whether alone, in pairs, or in groups, my grandmothers, my mom, my aunt & I carefully joined the layers together with tiny, even stitches. As we worked, we talked about family news and current events. From time to time, one of my grandmothers would reminisce about days on the farm – the time my grandmother defied her mother-in-law and advised her husband to use her money to buy a new tractor, or the “ultimatum” she gave my grandfather – marry her or she was going to take her savings and go to university. I wish I had thought at the time, to write these stories down…By mid-afternoon, we would congregate in the kitchen to share a pot of tea and nibble on cake or cookies.

My grandmother has produced many quilts over the years – all different patterns – Log Cabin, Dresden Plate, Jacob’s Ladder. She has made quilts with embroidered squares, like the flowers of each province. She made quilts for her grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and quilts for hospital bizarres. She quilted right up until this past Christmas, when she was admitted to hospital (at 98), then moved to a new nursing home.

The art of quilt-making is over 6,000 years old. It was once a skill passed down to each generation and I’m so excited to have learned that skill from the women in my family. As I trace the tiny stitches, I feel blessed to possess these legacies of needlework, and I feel a connection to the precious hands that crafted them.

From left to right: Dresden Plate, Celtic Quilt, Double Wedding Star (my wedding quilt)

***

Tell us about a lost art or skill that you know, or that you think needs to be revived.

To view other thoughts on lost arts and skills, click here.

Weekly Writing Challenge: Movie List Lessons

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DP, DP Challenge, DPchallenge, humour, movies, Weekly Writing Challenge

Last summer, I started writing down some “lessons” learned from the movies I was watching…and then, like my houseplants, it was neglected. So instead of “Life Lessons from My Summer Blockbusters” here are “35 Lessons from Some Movies I’ve Watched… in the past year”…

1) There could be a Zombie in your garden shed playing video games (better than the basement) (Shaun of the Dead)

2) The Winchester Pub is not a suitable place to “hole up” until it blows over. (Shaun of the Dead)

3) “I can never get the ant. If I just stop chasing the ant, I could get a million things done” (The aardvark, Pink Panther)

4) There are three options for Long-distance space travellers in hyperspace a) go nuts, b) evolve into cannibals or c) become bait…I’ve already chosen option (a) (Pandorum)

5) I have slept with significantly less than the national average number of guys (What’s Your Number?)

6) I’m too old to babysit. (Adventure in Babysitting)

7) Sometimes there’s more than one “bad guy”. (Halo: Forward Unto Dawn)

8) Trust your heart and learn to fly (Rio)

9) We can spend our whole life imagining another time was the “golden time”, but right now, the present is the “golden time”. (Midnight in Paris)

10) If you’re going to kidnap someone for doing something despicable, make sure you’ve got the right person first. (Suicide Kings)

11) If you reinvented and marketed yourself differently, you might have some amazing opportunities, you could also be missing out on meaningful relationships. (Syrup)

12) There are stories in every city that need to be told. (To Rome With Love)

13) If a plucky mollusk managed to drag his broken shell across the finish line, so can you. “No dream is too big, and no dreamer too small” (Turbo)

14) If the pizza delivery guy shows up with a bomb strapped to his chest (because he was kidnapped and blackmailed into robbing a bank), don’t look for how to disarm the bomb on the internet. Apparently “there’s not a lot of consensus in the bomb disarming community”. (I haven’t looked into this but everything is true on the internet, right?) (30 Minutes or Less)

15) Be thankful you don’t know anything about the personal lives of your kids’ teachers (Bad Teacher)

16) Rumours, even if started with the intention of helping someone else, will grow out of proportion and eventually destroy you. (Easy A)

17) Accept the signs of aging and scars of battle in one another and in ourselves as something to be honoured. (Chronicles of Riddick)

18) Announce your intentions (or your weapons) with flair. (Despicable Me 2)

19) A bad day involves being stalked by a professional killer, kidnapped from a hospital, and driven off a cliff…not things like spilling tea all over my new white sweater. (Hodejegerne /Headhunters)

20) Appearances are deceiving (How Does She Do That?)

21) Costco could contain an alien beacon (The Watch)

22) We all have unique skills and talents that we can share with others (The House Bunny)

23) There’s a “nut job” in every group (be careful…it might be someone you’re dating) (It’s a Disaster)

24) Keep your favourite treats stocked up before the end of the world…Also, Double tap, Cardio, Avoid bathrooms, Check the back seat, Seatbelts, and Enjoy the little things (Zombieland)

25) Give up the guilt and buy a pair of bigger jeans (Eat, Pray, Love)

26) Thanksgiving pizza means no cooking (I can live with that)!! (Free Birds)

27) Bros before Hos (or Jersey Shore boys) (The Three Stooges)

28) Don’t let Hubby tinker in the attic (unless you want a night alone with no kids) (Honey I Shrunk the Kids)

29) No more jelly beans…I know from whence they came (Hop)

30) Hot chicks can sneak onto space ships (Star Trek: Into Darkness)

31) Apparently really mean and ugly chicks can sneak on to space ships too (Aliens)

32) Penguins may be “cute and cuddly” but they are master spies (Penguins of Madagascar)

33) Guitar Hero skills may come in handy in a tight situation (Couples Retreat)

34) Unlikely pairings can lead to lasting friendships (Monsters U)

35) Everything is awesome! (The Lego Movie)

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To see more Weekly Writing Challenge: List Lessons, click here.

 

Weekly Writing Challenge: Blog Your Block

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DP, DP Challenge, DPchallenge, faith, flowers, nature, Weekly Writing Challenge

In the last few years, I have been trying to embrace the chaos in my little back yard. I’m trying to quiet my heart so I can simply enjoy the sights and the sounds, more than worrying about the weeds (and there are plenty to worry about). It was supposed to rain yesterday afternoon, so I took the time to hang my clothes on the line, and settle in my ugly plastic lounge chair on the back porch.

As I surveyed my overgrown lawn, I chose to admire the tapestry of colour – deep purple violets with their faces to the sun, the splashes of yellow dandelions, and the sprinkles of frothy blue forget-me-nots. My grandmother’s bleeding heart winked at me from beneath the lilac tree.

A frustrated bumblebee hovered around the lilac tree, the tiny buds not quite opened but emitting a sweet scent just the same. The tree boughs had been bent and caked with thick ice in December, and I had wondered if they would have the strength to reach skyward again.

Then I noticed a splash of orange on one of the dandelions. Despite knowing my feet would become wet with dew in the thick grass, I grabbed my camera and tiptoed to the far side of my yard. It was an orange butterfly but before I could focus my lens, it flew away. I also spotted a white butterfly resting on the only blue flower in a patch of thick grass, but a territorial bumblebee chased it away.

My apple tree in the centre of my yard is blooming – round pink clusters of buds and delicate white blossoms edged in pink. Since my feet were already wet, I moved closer to the tree. It was animated with a sound like buzzing. I snapped a few photos of the blossoms before trying to capture a photo of a bumblebee moving between violets on the ground. Every time he landed, the weight of his fat body would cause the stem to arch to the ground, and he was hidden from me.

It was only when I sat back down in my chair that I noticed just how many bumblebees were also relishing the apple blossoms and the sunshine. Soon the bees will savour the white teardrops on my Solomon’s Seal or the tiny white bells of my lily-of-the-valley. My peonies are my favourite, ragged pink petals like a ruffled skirt of a ball gown.

I closed my eyes and listened to a sassy robin greeting the day with a friendly “cheerio”, while on the other side of the fence, a squirrel scolded a black starling. I haven’t heard a red-winged blackbirds’ chuckle this year – a sound that reminds me of lazy summer afternoons at my Grandmother’s house in the country. And finally, the most glorious sound of all, my cardinal. He was perched on top of my neighbour’s bare maple tree, the buds of it barely visible from a distance. His red crest was ablaze against the fading blue sky. He shouted a herald of praise before swooping across my yard to rest in the neighbour’s apple tree. And then he was gone.

“What a beautiful home, God-of-the-Angel-Armies! I’ve always longed to live in a place like this…Birds find nooks and crannies in your house, sparrows and swallows make nests there. They lay their eggs and raise their young, singing their songs in the place where we worship.” -from Ps. 84, The Message ((MSG) copyright © 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 2000, 2001, 2002 by Eugene H. Peterson)

***

This week’s challenge: Seasoned writers have mastered the art of looking at old and familiar sights with new eyes. To see more Blog Your Block stories, click here.

Weekly Writing Challenge: Fifty Words

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DP, DP Challenge, humour, pets, Weekly Writing Challenge

I told this story to Little Guy last night and he laughed out loud.

I had a friend in school. My friend’s neighbours had a cat that roamed the neighbourhood. Every night she heard them calling for the cat to come home. They would call “Here kitty-kitty…here Stupid”…

* * *

For this week’s challenge, you must write a fifty-word story. Not five thousand, not five hundred, but precisely fifty words!

What’s in a Name?

Tags

DP, DP Challenge, humour, Weekly Writing Challenge

My name is Jennifer, but I go by Jenn. It means “Gentle Spirit” or “Fair Lady”. Hubby will tell you that I am no lady… I have 2 middle names, and when I was born, my Grandpa complained that I had an awfully long name for such a little girl. I’m only 5′ 1- 1/2″ (the half inch is very important) so I’m not sure I grew into it.

These days I’m in desperate need of a good laugh… the snowstorms, the ice storms, and the blasts of arctic temperatures have slowly been sucking me into a big black hole. If Spring doesn’t come soon, I’m worried that I will never find the way out. So I went to urbandictionary.com and typed in my name. Some of the descriptions were so ridiculous, I laughed out loud (in a “mad scientist” kind of way) while other descriptions were, in my humble opinion, spot on! Most people call me “Jenn” or “Jennifer” – never “Jenny”, “Jennie”, “Jenna”, “Jeffiner”, “Jenni-kins”, or “Jenni-poo” – not if they want to live! I found solid reasoning from someone else, as to why I’ve shortened my name:

“As the world is so overpopulated with Jennifers, we need to be able to distinguish the cool from the evil. The only acceptable abbreviation for the cool Jennifers is Jenn. Jenny, Jen, Nifer and any other variations of Jennifer are hereby deemed stupid and will no longer be tolerated! Anyone still answering to any other variation will be recognised as evil and or a loser!”

So there!

I took exception to some:

“Typically a chubby to large framed, trashy … woman who gets taken advantage of…” “A weirdo who usually has no life. People with this name tend to flunk math and have large rear ends. This girl also has no life; she is lame” “Usually the hottest girl in the class. Laughs 24/7 and smiles no matter what’s going on.”

Oh wait, some of those things are true…like the math thing and the weirdo with no life…Hmm… And I was NEVER the hottest girl in class…sinking into a black hole…

On to the Better definitions:

“Highly intelligent, attractive, and creative, witty, and usually sarcastic”

Who, me??

“Compassionate & very loyal once you win her over. Warning: she will hold her own and do what’s necessary if you prove incapable of being a healthy asset to her life…You’d be … lucky to find a place in her heart.” “The most amazing girl in the world, the yin to your yang, often under-appreciated, but as precious as a diamond. Be the one to have her fall in love with you and you’ll be the luckiest man in the world.”

I wonder if Hubby agrees? Better not to ask…

“Fun, outgoing, insanely smart, insightful, inwardly and outwardly beautiful. Able to have an intelligent conversation while also appreciating the importance of a fun night on the town, a sexy dress and a hot pair of shoes. Values love, respect, truth and justice.”

Ah….that is better! They had me at “hot pair of shoes”, and even though it’s freezing rain outside, I feel so much better. What’s in your name? Aren’t you a teensy bit curious?

www.urbandictionary.com

To see more Weekly Writing Challenges, click here.

Bluebeary (DP Challenge)

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DP, DP Challenge, DPchallenge, family, Weekly Writing Challenge

While Little Guy may not remember being fast-friends with his bean-filled blue bear, Hubby and I do!

Every few months I ask Little Guy to go through a pile of books or toys, and pull out the things that he thinks he’s “too old” for, so we can “pass them on to another little guy who will love them as much as you did”. Often there are items that bring back memories for me, but I recognize that Little Guy is growing up and moving on…and I need to as well. But recently, I found 2 little blue bears in the pile of stuff “to go”, and my Mama heart broke.

The 2 little bears are nearly identical. One had been a gift; one had been purchased on Ebay as a replacement for when bear #1 fell apart. And he was just starting to fall apart. Before he was even walking, Little Guy developed the habit of biting the noses on his most beloved stuffed animals and growling. It was a habit he outgrew as quickly as he had developed it, but it meant I had to become a “mender of noses” for these beloved friends as more and more teeth appeared in that little gummy mouth. And BlueBeary, as we named him, had also fallen victim to pearly white incisors on more than one occasion.

Bluebeary watched over Little Guy the most in those first difficult 8 months. When Little Guy was born, he had a mark on his cheek that looked like a blood blister. We were told it was nothing to worry about…but within a few months, that little mark began to grow. And it started to bleed, sometimes profusely. We used bandages to try to cushion the mark, but then Little Guy’s delicate skin started to react to the adhesive in the bandages. We quickly became experts on wound care and how to sterilize equipment. We were knowledgeable about all kinds of medical dressings available. I learned to wake up before Little Guy started to stir in the night so I could check to make sure the covering was still in place and he wasn’t bleeding. I even how learned to change bandages in the dark without waking him up. There were some scary nights when we couldn’t stop the bleeding, and frightening mornings when his bed sheets were covered and he was white as a ghost for days. We worried that he would choke on the bandage, and we were so tired, we wouldn’t hear him. Every night Hubby and I placed Little Guy in God’s hands.

Like most parents, we pleaded with doctors to help us, and over the course of several months, we saw 4 doctors and 2 surgeons. When the sixth medical professional identified the problem and said he could operate in less than 2 weeks, I broke down and cried.

On the morning of the surgery, we took Little Guy and Bluebeary for a walk in the stroller. Little Guy clutched Bluebeary for the long wait in the hospital. And finally, when they came to take our 8 month old to the O.R., Bluebeary, marked with an identical hospital bracelet, went too. Bluebeary was safely nestled next to Little Guy in the Recovery Room; they both looked rumpled and small. Little Guy nuzzled Bluebeary and chewed on his nose all the way home.

I don’t know exactly when Bluebeary was replaced with a new favourite, but I had tucked him in a place of honour where he could watch Little Guy sleep. I know this little bear is just a toy, but I can’t help feeling thankful for him. He brought comfort to my little boy when he needed it most, when this Mama was not allowed to go with him to a new and scary place. I guess he brought me comfort too. Little Guy may have outgrown the attachment to Bluebeary, but I have not…

 “A bear grows more alive with age. No one with one ounce of sensitivity could ever consign a bear to the dustbin.” – Johnnie Hague

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This story was written for the Daily Post Weekly Writing Challenge: Object.

To go to the page where you can read more stories click here!